


All Poachers Will Be Shot On Site

by dragonspell



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-08
Updated: 2012-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-30 19:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/335326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff's sick to death of visiting aliens and other captains trying to make off with his chief engineer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Poachers Will Be Shot On Site

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a January 2012 blindfold_spn [prompt](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/7359.html?thread=8403647#t8403647).

“Ducas.” Jeff Morgan said the name flatly, keeping it devoid of emotion and definitely not stooping to the juvenile hiss he wanted. He was, after all, addressing a high official of the Mercinian Court and Jeff was rather found of the planet of Mercinia. They had pineapples. Jeff leaned against a steel support beam that bracketed the engine room and crossed his arms. “If you’re lost, I can show you the way out.” That was a little more blatant because even a mudfoot like Ducas vi Marcani would find it hard to get lost on his way off the Bisou. She had nice, wide hallways. In fact, Jeff was pretty certain that Ducas actually had to bypass the main exit to get to the engine room.

“Oh, Captain Morgan,” Ducas said, greeting Jeff with an entirely forced smile. Jeff didn’t smile back. Ducas batted his baby blues as he straightened from where he was bent over a large piece of machine, pulling all that tanned bare skin that he’d had on display back underneath his artfully-cut robe. “I was just asking Mr. Ackles if he’d be so kind as to escort me to the exit. I have a bad sense of direction, you know.” Ducas placed a hand delicately on the shoulder of the man in question, his robe seamlessly splitting to allow him the movement.

Ducas man wasn’t fooling anyone; they both knew—and probably the whole damn ship, too, if Jeff were to guess—that Ducas hadn’t boarded the Bisou to talk trade negotiations and protection details. Well. Maybe a certain _kind_ of trade negotiation: thus why Jeff had found him about two steps away from being draped all over Jeff’s chief engineer. Jeff’s lips thinned. He didn’t like his crew being scoped. He hadn’t traveled around the galaxy hand-picking the best and brightest just to have them lured away by a pretty face with a big, fat paycheck. “Jensen’s got a lot on his plate already. Preparations for take-off. I’m sure you understand.”

Ducas’s smile turned sour and he all but flounced out of the room, pushing past Jeff and heading down the corridor, proving that he’d known exactly where he was. Jeff watched him for a few moments before activating the radio receiver hanging over his ear. “Holt, you have a Mercinian official storming towards you. Make sure he finds his way out this time.”

“Yes, sir,” Holt said in his ear and Jeff tapped the radio off as he walked into the engine room and settled into the same space that Ducas had just vacated. He liked to think that he leaned with a little bit more class, though ( _lies_ a small voice piped up but Jeff ruthlessly quashed it). 

Jeff put his hands on the chunk of metal and cocked his hip. “We almost ready to ditch this piece of rock, Jensen?” Jeff asked and if his voice was a little rougher than normal, what about it? Jensen wasn’t likely to notice anyway and it was a sad little commentary on the state of Jeff’s life nowadays that Jeff kind of wished that Jensen would.

Bisou’s chief engineer, Jensen Ackles, raised his sandy-haired head and glanced around the room as if he hadn’t realized that he wasn’t alone. He’d probably been tuning Ducas right out. Jeff gave him a grin, putting every last inch of charm he had into it. “Hmm?” Jensen’s scattered survey of the room focused in on Jeff and came to a stop. “Oh.” He shook himself, clearing out the haze. “Yeah. I finished tightening up the fusion coils and we’re probably going to need to replace the Helix before too long. It’s starting to retrograde and the reactors are down to nubs. They’ll function but not at maximum, so forget about doing a spinboard thrust, and it won’t be too long before they won’t fire up the…” Jensen trailed off, staring at Jeff. 

Jeff raised his eyebrows, encouraging Jensen to continue. He hadn’t had a clue what Jensen had been talking about but it had sounded good. Mechanic-y. The fact that Jensen looked nice shaping his pretty lips around all those words was purely secondary. “Won’t fire up the…?”

“Main centrivical reaction chamber,” Jensen answered, sounding confused, like he was trying to remember why Jeff was in his workspace. “That you’re leaning on.” His face shifted into a frown, looking aggrieved that Jeff had dared to use part of his precious engine like a common support beam. 

Knowing he was about three seconds away from a lecture, Jeff stood up straight. “So, I’ll just…” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and tried not to fidget. It might have been Jensen’s engine room but it was Jeff’s _ship_ , damn it. “Head to the cockpit. Start her up so I can get her into space?” 

Jensen blinked his green eyes and rubbed at his forehead, leaving a smear of grease across his skin that was in no way, shape or form sexy—except that it totally was. “Sure thing, Capt’n,” he said, finally giving Jeff a smile. “Coming right up.” He dodged around the centra-whatever and jumped over the large cylinder that slowly spun in the middle of the room. “Steve, Jase, we’re heading up!” 

A resounding whoop echoed around the room and Steve, one of Jensen’s assistants, jumped over a console with more grace than Jeff thought he possessed. He flipped through the various switches for the pre-flight check and stretched across the flat surface to reach the dials. “Finally!” he said. “Thought we were going to be stuck on this mudball forever!” He glanced over at Jeff and nodded. “No offense, Cap’n. I know how you like Mercinia.”

Jeff threw him a mock salute and headed out as Jensen started to say, “I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that bad…”

* * *

Their next stop wasn’t a stop at all but a rendezvous in space. Jeff had been hoping to make it to Durandin but when an old army buddy sends you a friendly flag on the 997, you really kind of had to stop. Especially if he appeared to be piloting a Trine-class Alliance warship with galaxy-spanning engines and fragment-auging lasers. “Hey, Serge,” Jeff greeted when the video-com picked up.

“Well, Jeff Morgan. You wouldn’t be trying to outrun me, would you?” Serge’s face split into a smile and Jeff scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Would I do that?” Jeff asked, trying to ignore all the evidence that said that yes. Yes, he would. If he would have thought that he had half a chance and that the Bisou couldn’t be identified, he’d be half-way across this solar system by now.

Serge snorted. “You’d probably try.” His smile grew wicked. “But you wouldn’t be able to. Hard to run when the Angelica could fracture your neutrino star drive and blast you into space dust before you’d even get the chance to spin your engine coils.”

Jeff decided to take that in the spirit he was sure it was intended and laughed even though he kind of felt like pissing himself. Serge had a nasty habit of pretending to joke about things he’d actually been thinking about doing. “Probably could.”

“We should have dinner. Have you eaten? A drink, then. Open your port because I’m boarding.” Serge stood up before he even finished the sentence, heading to the shuttle and leaving the bridge as the video-com shut off.

“Where have I heard _that_ before?” Jeff muttered, flipping off the open channel. That was so very Serge, that I’m doing whatever the fuck I want, so you’d better just bend over and take it, buddy, 10-4, over. “Open your port. I’ll open _your_ port, you presumptuous—” 

“Captain, Angelica Shuttle One is requesting permission to enter the docking bay.”

Jeff closed his eyes and sighed. “Open the damn port.” He rubbed his head and stood, preparing to go make nice with Serge because even though Jeff had retired from the military, you never knew when you just might need use of a fragment-auging laser beam.

* * *

Jeff held himself steady as Serge beat him on the back in something akin to friendly camaraderie but was more likely trying to see if he could knock Jeff over. “You’ve definitely put on some mass,” Serge said and if the statement hadn’t been said with obvious approval, Jeff might have growled because that was the sixth comment in an hour that Serge had made about Jeff’s weight. Apparently, Serge liked everyone to be as big as him—tall as a barn and twice as broad.

“You too, good buddy,” Jeff shot back because Serge was no longer the gangly string bean from boot camp.

“Oh, we’re getting old, there, Jeff.” Jeff nearly spit out his mouthful of whiskey because, _damn it_ , Serge could speak for his own, apparently aging, self. Jeff was still fit enough to shimmy underneath the Bisou’s control console, even if sure, it was a bit tighter than it used to be and his back might complain if he stayed down too long. The day Jeff couldn’t slide under there, he’d shoot himself in the head. Jeff looked appraisingly at Serge. _He_ didn’t look like he could fit under the console. Then again, he also looked like he could bench-press Jeff and possibly Holt, too, so maybe that was the trade-off.

“Mmm, the engine room.” Serge took a sip of whiskey and looked around with obvious appreciation. “You know,” he confided, “There’s the possibility that I might have been talking out of my ass about the whole outrunning thing because I’ve definitely heard a thing or two about the Bisou’s engine capacity.” It was the first out and out compliment that Jeff’s heard since Serge boarded and Jeff had to blink back his surprise. And preen a little bit. Yeah, his ship was good. “I mean, normally these outdated models can barely reach Mach 2 but they say you outran a Nretti cruiser?”

“Well…” Jeff hedged. The whole Nretti thing hadn’t exactly been on the up and up and had Serge just called the Bisou _outdated_? 

“Nrettis use a standard caliber three sub-light engine on a two-five alternating power core,” a voice interrupted, coming from underneath a mass of burnished metal, followed by a couple of clangs. “And they’re rather limited by the fact that they refuse to upgrade their serotic condensers which only give them a few hours of sustained maximum thrust hard burn. It wouldn’t even be a problem if they’d just reroute their energy efficiencies for short bursts but they’d have to toss out their brandalon coil—which is useless anyway, only good for slowing you down—but the Nrettis are married to them.”

Serge was standing there with his mouth open and Jeff forced himself not to mimic him, instead throwing Jensen a smile when the guy rolled out from underneath the mass of metal, flat on his back on his cart. “Once you know that, it’s just a matter of keeping out of their way until they cycle down to save power. And if you add a Jangler to the neutrino port—not regulation but everyone really should—combined with the sheer muscle of the Starwalk sub-drive—a variation found only in the Starwalk ships—it’s not a matter of _if_ you can outrun a Nretti cruiser but _when_.” Jensen shook his wrench at Serge and Jeff mentally filled in the ‘so there.’ Jeff could have happily kissed Jensen right then and there. “Plus I modified the feeder lines so the Bisou runs 203 percent more efficiently and she probably could outrun a Trine-class if she really wanted to.”

Lecture over, Jensen turned back to the metal still somewhat over his head and tightened down a bolt. “Cap’n, I’m thinking about adding a trenigate to the calibration controls.”

“Sounds great,” Jeff said, smugly. “You know I only like the best for the Bisou.” Outdated Jeff’s _ass_.

Jensen snapped his eyes to Jeff. “Oh, well, in that case, we really should get the A-class instead of the C. I figured that the C would do just as well, because it’s only missing the PSN825 coding and I thought that maybe I could rig something to cover that but nothing really substitutes once you get down to it. I just thought that you wanted me to keep it cheap because you told me that we were on a budget the last time I wanted to—” Jensen yelped as Jeff shoved his pretty but too talkative ass back underneath the overhang of the engine.

“Well, that’s the engine room,” Jeff said and gulped down the last of his whiskey. “My glass is empty. What do you say we go get a refill?” A refill back in Jeff’s room followed by a few more swapped war stories and ending with Jeff nicely shoving Serge back into his shuttle and sending him on his way.

Serge, though, didn’t see to be getting with the program. He ignored Jeff and squatted down beside Jensen, holding out a hand. “Serge Armand, Captain of the Angelica, 3rd Battalion of the Associated Alliance Fleet.” Jeff just barely restrained himself from standing between them. He knew what was coming because for some _fucking_ odd reason, it seemed to be the accepted standard next move after meeting Jensen.

“Uh, Jensen Ackles,” Jensen said, reaching out a grease-stained hand. “Mechanic.”

Taking the hand and not looking the least bit put out by the grease despite his dress blues, Serge pulled Jensen out from under the metal overhang. “Based on that speech, Jensen, you’re a little bit more than a mechanic.” He chuckled. “I take it you’re the one who keeps the Bisou running in tip-top shape?”

Jensen smiled, that rare, somewhat abashed smile that he normally saved for _Jeff_ , damn it. Jeff reined in his jealousy before he did something stupid like pop Serge in the back of the head. He didn’t _own_ Jensen’s smiles and he’d best be remembering that. Regardless of what kind of skeevy asshole Jensen was directing them at. “She’s a good ship,” he said. Serge wasn’t above noticing that smile, either. Jeff didn’t think that anybody would be.

“Yeah, thanks to you. Hey, you want to come over to my ship and see a Trine-class engine?” The man had the audacity to wink as he added, “Normally I can’t allow civilians in the engine room but you’d be my special guest.” Oh, Jensen would be special alright. Jeff didn’t like how Serge had yet to let go of Jensen’s hand.

“Hey now,” Jeff protested, cutting in because the whole thing had gone far enough as far as he was concerned, “You wouldn’t be trying to lure my mechanic away with promises of big engines, would you?”

Serge shot him a wolfish grin. “Now, Jeff. Would I do that?” He turned back to Jensen. “What do you say? You want to see my ship, Jensen? I’ll give you the _private_ tour.” His eyes raked up and down Jensen’s body and Jeff clenched his teeth on a growl. “The Angelica is top of the line and requisitions all only the best. Maybe dinner? The cook has some Gabraltar shellfish that I’m told is quite good with Altarian wine.” Bengin’s _teeth_ but Jeff could use some Altarian wine. Even the cheapest bottle cost over a thousand credits. Rich food, hospitality, _really big engines_ … Serge was half a sentence away from offering Jensen sex with nubile Refreet pleasure workers and how the hell was Jeff supposed to compete with that?

“Uh…” Jensen dropped his gaze to their joined hands and pulled himself free. “I’m…kind of busy.” He glanced back at the engine. “Maybe later?” Something soft and dangerous unfurled in Jeff’s chest because Jensen had just turned down what some would consider the offer of a lifetime in favor of banging around on Jeff’s ship some more.

“ _Later?_ ” Serge demanded. “Boy, I’m offering you a—”

Sensing his opportunity to get Serge safely away from Jensen, Jeff clamped a hand on Serge’s shoulder. “You heard him. He’s a little busy. Now, how about that refill?” Serge sputtered some more but let Jeff lead him out and Jeff congratulated himself on once again managing to keep Jensen’s genius ass right where it belonged.

Serge tried one more time to tempt Jensen onto the Angelica before Holt had congenially shown the large captain the door. Serge had no doubt been prepping some big guys with chloroform if Jensen happened to say yes but Jensen was neck deep in engine parts, bent over an open panel of the core and hardly seemed to notice how Serge’s eyes couldn’t leave his backside.

That was Jeff’s boy. Jeff didn’t let it bother him that Jensen hadn’t even seemed to notice that _Jeff_ was there, either.

* * *

The next couple of days were nothing but the vastness of space and them hurtling through it. It was both a blessing and a curse because no other outlets meant equal parts togetherness and annoyance. True, Jeff didn’t have to fend off anybody looking to poach his engineer, but it did mean that there wasn’t anybody to sic Holt on, either and the guy had a tendency to get bored. He was a rather active kind of guy and a spaceship only had so much room. Secretly, Jeff was just glad that it wasn’t Harbinger that went stir-crazy because at least Holt was normal-sized—a little smaller than Jeff even. Harbinger was a fucking brick shithouse who could possible crush Jeff using his pinky.

Honestly, though, Jeff didn’t know why Harbinger couldn’t come down to the rec room and beat Holt around with the sticks a little. It would really solve everybody’s problems. The crew’s because Holt would be out of their hair, Jeff’s because Holt wouldn’t be asking _him_ to get smacked around, and even Holt’s because the only one on the ship who didn’t know that Holt was crushing hard on Harbinger was possibly Harbinger himself. The two could work up some good sexual tension and have it out on the mats while the rest of the crew gave the rec room a wide berth and politely ignored the groans.

But no. Instead, he had Holt grinning at him as they circled each other, the sticks spinning casually in Holt’s hands and Jeff knew that Holt’s glee at the moment was probably rooted somewhere in the idea of ‘sticking it to the man.’ Well, Jeff was the man, and he was about to get sticked.

“Now, you’re going to go easy, right?” Jeff asked.

“Oh, yes, sir,” Holt replied sincerely, right before he lunged. Jeff yelped as he fended off the first volley only to get hit on the return.

“ _Kerasde_ ,” Jeff swore, rubbing his hip. He walked in a short circle and then came to a stop. “Okay,” he said, bringing his sticks back up and salvaging the rest of his pride. “I wasn’t ready for that one. Let’s try it again.” Holt grinned.

Two minutes later, Jeff was shaking out his hand and nursing what was promising to be one Hell of a bruise on his thigh. “Remind me again why it’s not Harbinger down here getting beaten up?” Jeff asked plaintively, buying himself a little time to try and scrape up whatever dignity he had left. _Two damn minutes_.

Holt twirled the batons. “Kaleb wouldn’t be getting beaten up,” he replied and that was definitely true.

“No, he’d be kicking your ass back to Gelfin,” Jeff growled and Holt sighed, dropping the sticks.

“He said he had to mediate.”

“So why didn’t you ask to meditate with him?” Jeff asked. Holt raised an eyebrow and Jeff leered. “You wouldn’t have to meditate.”

“Right,” Holt said flatly. “‘Hey, Har, I know you want to ponder the state of your soul and all that but I was hoping we could just fuck instead.’ I’m sure that would go over great. Real impressive.”

Jeff shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.” 

Holt’s batons clattered as he tossed them to the side, evidently giving up on getting any kind of workout out of Jeff and he stared angrily at the far wall. “Hey, say, Captain, you corner Jensen in the engine room, yet? It being that easy and all,” he said and ouch. Jeff supposed he’d deserved that. 

But the comparison was off. For one, Jeff was in no way, shape or form _pining_ like Holt. “Not the same thing,” Jeff said.

“Whatever you say, Captain.” Holt threw him a mocking salute and stalked out of the room.

Now, Jeff didn’t think that he’d deserved _that_ because, really. They weren’t the same thing at all.

* * *

They hit Sabina four days later and Jeff didn’t think twice about putting the Bisou down for a little R & R. Being cooped up in the ship gave him too much time to think and that was a dangerous thing. Jeff had found himself in the engine room at least three times a day and he wanted to know what the Hell was wrong with him anyway. A little harmless flirting was never a bad thing but there was a difference between being friendly and stalking and Jeff knew that he was starting to cross it with alarming frequency. There was also the fact that not only did Jeff not like getting involved with his crew but over the past three years, Jensen hadn’t so much as winked in Jeff’s direction. He’d given Jeff those shy little smiles, sure, but it was always after Jeff handed him an engine part and soon after, Jensen would start pulling apart great big gobs of machinery and Jeff might as well be part of the Bisou’s hull for how much attention he got. 

It was all kind of sad, really.

The Bisou needed supplies and Jeff needed a chance to run around a little and possibly find his mind again. Luckily, Sabina was just the place for it, boasting a marketplace bigger than some planetary moons. Jeff wandered around a bit, eyeing the different goods and ended up trying to barter down a merchant for what was shaping up to be the most expensive box of artificially-grown strawberries in the galaxy. Jeff didn’t even know why he was even trying because it wasn’t like he’d ever been particularly taken by strawberries before. Not like he’d ever been possessed with a need to just _have_ them that was powerful enough that he was considering spending over four hundred credits for the damn things. Four hundred credits would buy Jeff a shiny new Lasertik 3000 with side scope _and_ leave enough left over for a new hat if Jeff wanted. Four hundred credits would buy him a weekend in the local Pleasure House—maybe not with Refreets or even Hupians but Jeff had always privately thought that they were overrated anyway. An orgasm was an orgasm.

Four hundred credits for damn _strawberries_ was highway robbery. He didn’t even want the damn strawberries anyway. They were artificial and had some spots and he knew that they would be cheaper and better grown back on Hoxie.

It wasn’t even like Jensen had actually admitted to wanting some. He’d just mentioned that he remembered that they tasted good back on Hoxie. Jeff had picked Jensen up on a Hoxian moon, dragging him out of the gutter-filth garage he’d been holed up where he'd been wasting his time fixing dunerunners and hoverflats. Jensen’s eyes had lit up when Jeff had offered him the chance at getting his hands on an engine actually worth his while and within thirty minutes, the Bisou, formerly mechanic-less, had three guys setting up camp in her engine room: Jensen, Jason, and a guy named Trent that had later proved to be more interested in sleeping around than in fixing engines. Jensen hadn’t looked back but every so often, he’d go all soft around the eyes and mention something about Hoxie.

And maybe Serge had been right about Jeff getting old because a few years ago, Jeff would have shrugged off those distant green eyes and shrugged. Maybe offered the kid a drink before swaggering off. Now, those looks _got_ to him. They reminded him that, unlike Jeff, Jensen had somewhere else besides a spaceship that was home and that—

It made Jeff think silly things is what it did. Silly things that he had no business thinking. Jeff roughly shoved the whole business out of his mind. He’d just buy the damn berries and go live life somewhere.

He’d argued the merchant down to 350 when he happened to catch a glimpse of a very distinct blue coloring out of the corner of his eye. “Oh _Kerasde_ ,” Jeff swore, turning around. 

He’d left Jensen with Jase and Steve puttering through a spare part shop, just out of sight because, fuck, it was Sabina and who would dare, right? Fucking up on Sabina meant a whole lot more than just sitting in a jail for awhile. It meant spending the rest of your life in a deep dark pit—provided you weren’t just killed first. Holt had been casually flirting with Harbinger over knives because Holt’s been not so secretly lusting after the big blond for six months now while the Doc and Cally stocked up on supplies and the rest of the crew hadn’t left the ship which was probably a good thing in Isabel’s case because she had a rap sheet longer than Jeff’s arm. That little flash of blue, though, had reminded Jeff that Jensen could have been fucking _surrounded_ by an Alliance military company and it wouldn’t have done any good.

Sure enough, when Jeff had pushed through the crowd and past the greased curtain of the parts shop, Jase and Steve were still shopping but Jensen was nowhere to be found. “Where’s Jensen?” Jeff demanded, grabbing Jason’s shoulder. Jason blinked up at him.

“Uh…”

“Oh he went with that blue lady,” Steve answered as he peered through a cylinder. “She said that she had something nice to show him outback.”

“Really?” Jason asked, his mouth dropping. “I didn’t notice that.”

“Yeah. She had four boobs, man. It was great.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill her,” Jeff said and sprinted back into the street. Katarina really didn’t have a will to live at this point because Jeff had _warned_ her the last time that she came sniffing around Jensen. The smuggler could go find her own damn engineer and stop trying to steal Jeff’s!

There was no sign of either Jensen or Katarina, the engineer-napper, behind the stall and Jeff felt a small bud of panic starting to bloom next to his anger. Kerasde, if Jensen was really gone…

Jeff charged into the dock yard, his eyes sweeping across the multitude of ships at their moors, looking for a ZHawk S-class and finding it about three docks down and two levels up. Thanking whatever deity happened to be listening, Jeff trotted across the field and took the lift to the third level. He could see the intricate scrawl the proudly proclaimed that this was the Temptress and Jeff flattened his mouth into a hard line before banging on the door. “Goddamn it, Katarina, I know you’re in there. Open the damn door before I take a blowtorch to it!”

The door sulkily shifted inward and Jeff stomped up the steps, heading to the back of the ship. Katarina met him halfway there, her blouse gaping open and her lips puffy and dark blue. “Morgan,” she said, with an icy smile. “What brings you calling on me?”

“You know damn well. Where’s Jensen?”

“Jensen?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and Jeff shoved past her before she could even _try_ to spin him a line of bull.

“Jen?” Jeff shouted, his voice echoing through the Temptress’s narrow corridors. “Jensen, where are you?”

“Captain?” Jensen’s head poked out one of the rear doors, his hair sticking up at opposing angles like somebody had just been hanging on to it. He tumbled out of the room, wearing nothing but thin little boxers and Jeff’s eyes tried to fall out of his head. “Oh, hey Captain!” Jensen grinned in unabashed happiness. He stumbled towards Jeff before finally feeling the draft that he should have been and flushed, reaching back inside the room to grab his pants. “Kat was just showing me—”

“Her engine?” Jeff supplied, raising an eyebrow and the sarcasm flew directly over Jensen’s head. He nodded as he yanked on his pants.

“Yeah. Did you know that she’s modified the—”

“Baby,” Katarina said, striding between them to put two hands on Jensen’s shoulders and give him a gentle shove, “why don’t you go back inside and take another look at that crystallized converter? I’ll be right in after you…” She brought Jensen’s hands up to rest on her top set of breasts and Jensen’s attention instantly went southward.

“Uh…”

“Jensen,” Jeff barked and Jensen snapped his eyes over to Jeff.

“Right. Sorry, Cap’n.” His hands dropped away from Katarina’s ample chest as he sidled around her, his back scraping against the doorway.

“Jensen!” Katarina whined. “You promised you’d fix my converter! And the blown Lapper shaft!”

Jensen turned around and Jeff grabbed a hold of his arm, making sure he didn’t go _anywhere_. “Oh. Yeah. Um, I’m sure it’s just a malfunctioning containment valve and if you just grab a foot of pipe, it’ll do for a Lapper shaft.” Katarina’s face slipped into a pout and Jensen switched his attention from her to the hold that Jeff had on his arm. Jeff was suddenly reminded that Jensen still didn’t have a shirt on. He jerked his fingers backward like Jensen was an overheated coil. “Cap’n,” Jensen mumbled and slid past.

“Jensen!” Katarina called after him and Jeff leveled her with a glare.

“You touch him again and I’m chopping off one of your arms,” he told her. “Stop trying to kidnap my damn crew.”

“ _He_ came with _me_ , Morgan,” she snapped, “of his own free will so get your nose out of the air.” She growled and closed her gaping shirt with a hand. “And while you’re at, get the Hell off my ship!”

* * *

They couldn’t leave Sabina fast enough after that as far as Jeff was concerned and he ignored the crew’s complaints as he rounded them up and got them back on the damn ship. After he got the Bisou airborne again, though, and into the deep blackness of space, he started to think that maybe he’d made a mistake along the way because now, with nothing to look forward to besides the four days of hurtling through space to reach the closest planet, there’s nothing to distract Jeff from his own damn thoughts and that was a damn scary proposition.

In the past six months, Jeff had had to fend off seven separate attempts to make off with his chief engineer. Some had been purely academic interests ( _“The Cathari would be honored if you would agree to share your wisdom, Master Jensen.”_ ), others focused on skill ( _“Are you telling me that you build an interface hub from_ scratch? _…Do you prefer a cabin near the front of the ship or the back because whatever Morgan’s paying you, I’ll double it.”_ ), while others had been a bit more disturbing, like that Bebo that hadn’t been able to keep its tentacles to itself once it realized that Jensen could solve its ship’s fuel problems. It was starting to drive Jeff stir-crazy because _damn it_ , you didn’t go fishing in another man’s pond! It was just not done.

Wasn’t polite or some such fucking thing.

Jeff thought that the next person that tried to poach Jensen was going to get a blaster to the head, quick and simple, because a few painful, messy deaths was the only thing that Jeff had left to try. Over on Treflan, he even had a Jetsetter Captain who wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Granted, it had been _Jeff_ saying no for Jensen but it amounted to the same damn thing because Jensen hadn’t even been talking to the guy, too busy trying to shove himself up underneath the engine again to escape. At least that’s what Jeff thought Jensen had been doing because otherwise, why stuff yourself underneath some twisted up metal when some guy with more muscles than sense is scoping out your backside?

Jeff didn’t have these kinds of problems with the rest of his crew. It wasn’t that they weren’t worth as much as Jensen because, as far as Jeff’s concerned, they were worth fighting for. Sure, Jensen was a genius with machines but Holt could shoot out a guy’s eye faster than a person could blink and Isabel had literally threaded the Bisou through rock formations like thread through a needle and the Bisou may not be a starliner but she wasn’t exactly small either. The rest of Jeff’s crew was perfectly poachable as well, real Grade A prime-cut because Jeff liked having the best and everyone knew it. The difference was that Isabel would just as soon stab somebody as listen to someone try to give her an offer to leave the Bisou and Holt had just flatly stared down the last person who floated the idea of him leaving Jeff. Jensen, though, Jensen just acted like he didn’t even know that he was receiving an offer and it never failed to give the vultures hope.

Matter of fact, Jeff himself wasn’t all that sure where Jensen’s loyalties lied. When Jeff had found Jensen on that mudball of a moon, Jensen had just seemed eager for the chance to work on a real engine and not a wind-up toy. He probably would have gone with anyone at that point. Jeff had just been the right guy with the right ship at the right time. Jensen had never even known another ship besides the Bisou and while she was a great ship, even Jeff had to admit that there was bigger and better out among the stars. Hell, if Jensen wanted to, he could have some fat Alliance government contracts and be raking in the cash hand over fist and be working on state-of-the-art tech to boot. Jeff’s pride aside, the Bisou was getting up there in years. She’d give any new craft a run for its money but that was due in large part to Jensen and she was hardly cutting edge anymore. Even Katarina’s ZHawk was a newer model with better base tech.

Jeff needed to find out what Jensen was thinking in all of this, because if Jensen was just waiting for his chance to jump ship whenever a better offer came up, then he needed to get on with it before Jeff lost his damn mind. And, if he wasn’t planning on leaving at all, well, then, he needed to get with the damn program and tell some people to fuck off already—again, preferably before Jeff lost his damn mind. There was a small, pathetic part of Jeff that wanted to insist that Jensen belonged on the Bisou and nowhere else except for possibly Jeff’s bed but Jeff had been doing a great job of ignoring that voice so far.

He greeted Holt on his way to the engine room, taking in Holt’s embarrassed smile and how he was standing outside Harbinger’s room with a package wrapped in shiny blue paper and feeling a small twang thrum in his chest that Jeff couldn’t ignore anymore. The smart-ass bastard had been right. Damn it, anyway, because Jeff was carrying his own equivalent of a shiny blue package down the hallway and Jeff had never done this for _anybody_. He wondered if Holt had paid three times as much as he should have of if Jeff was the only one quite that dumb.

This kind of shit wasn’t supposed to happen to him. Matter of fact, it _didn’t_ happen to him because Jeff never let it. He wondered when that had changed.

Probably some time when he’d been getting old and hadn’t noticed.

Jeff had never been all that interested in relationships before. Sex, sure, but relationships brought complications, entanglements, _strings_. Jeff preferred to keep everything platonic because it was just easier that way for everybody and that way no one got hurt when Jeff invariably got bored and started looking for a place that had a bit more room to breathe. Hey, Jeff had always thought, he was young and sowing his wild oats, so what did it matter? No one _expected_ anything of him. No one expected him to change.

And that was the true kicker, wasn’t it? Because no _had_ expected him to change—but Jeff had done it all on his own. He couldn’t even fucking deny it. “Kerasde…” Jeff muttered. What he was about to do was either going to be colossally stupid or the possibly best thing he’d even done in his life (if still colossally stupid).

The engine room was suspiciously quiet when Jeff entered and it took him a moment to pick out Jensen amidst the clutter, bent over the central drive shaft. The room’s two other occupants were conspicuously missing but Jeff had seen them ineptly smuggling Tegarrian whiskey on board underneath their shirts and he had a pretty good idea of where they were. “What’cha doing?” Jeff asked, leaning over Jensen’s back. Jensen was always tinkering with parts of the Bisou.

Jensen’s head snapped upward and he jerked backward. “Jeff!” he said, surprised. Then he corrected himself with a flush. “Captain.” Jeff had liked the original one better. Jensen straightened and wiped his greasy hands on his thighs. “Was there, uh, something I could help you with?”

Jeff shoved the box of berries at him, catching Jensen by surprise. “Got these for you,” he said.

“Oh, I, uh…” Jensen lifted the box and stared at it curiously. “Are these…are these _strawberries_?” 

Jeff forced a casual smile, painfully aware that he’d never given Jensen anything besides a paycheck or parts for the engine. “Yeah. Thought you’d like them.” Jensen’s long fingers opened the box and pulled one of the red berries out. “They’re artificial,” Jeff admitted, gritting his teeth at his sudden need for honesty.

“Strawberries remind me of…”

“Hoxie, right?” Jeff jammed his thumbs into his pockets just to give his hands something to do. “I heard you talking about them the other day. Hoxie’s pretty famous for strawberries, aren’t they?”

Jensen’s eyes cut from the berry to Jeff. “Yeah.”

“We could visit there, if you wanted. It’s a good three weeks away but we could—” Jeff shut himself up with a growl. Since when had he gotten to be such a chatterbox?

Jensen shook his head, that shy little smile of his quirking his lips. “Nah. I don’t want to see Hoxie. I was glad when I left there, you know?”

“Oh.” Jeff dropped his eyes to the box, wondering if he’d grossly miscalculated. Maybe Jensen didn’t _want_ to be reminded of his home planet. Maybe Jeff had just spent three hundred credits on a box of bad memories and, fuck, this really wasn’t going the way that Jeff wanted it to. He hadn’t really thought it out, but somewhere between his quarters and the engine room, he’d made the vague plan that he’d give the strawberries to Jensen and they go back to Jeff’s and have fantastic sex and Jensen would swear that he would never, ever leave and profess his undying love or some such. Jeff had even graciously been willing to accept Jensen professing his undying love for _the Bisou_ instead of Jeff because as far as Jeff was concerned, it would amount to the same thing: i.e. Jensen never, ever leaving. And hopefully more sex.

With engineers, you had to be flexible. Their love for people was hit or miss but their love for machinery never died.

“…But if we’re ever in the area, maybe we can pick up some more strawberries,” Jensen said and Jeff looked up just in time to see Jensen’s plush lips wrap around the end of a red, red berry and take a bite. Oh, that couldn’t possibly be legal. It was better than a lot of porn that Jeff had seen. Jensen’s eyes fluttered closed and he moaned softly, sounding like he was already having sex, just him and the berry, and Jeff wondered if they wanted to be alone of if maybe they’d be okay with him watching. Jensen’s free hand came up to catch a bit of juice that was dripping. “They’re good,” he said. “Want to try?” 

The half-bitten berry was hovering just inches from Jeff’s mouth, suspended by Jensen’s fingers, and Jeff wasn’t about to say no. He tilted his head and leaned forward, biting off the rest of the berry, separating it from the green leaves on the end. Sweetness exploded in Jeff’s mouth, making his lips purse and his brain short-circuit—it’s the only excuse he had for why he suddenly let his tongue get away from him, letting it lick out and slide over Jensen’s still outstretched fingers. Victory only rewarded the bold.

Jensen’s breath hitched audibly, his mouth dropping open, and Jeff caught his eyes as he sucked one of Jensen’s fingers into his mouth. He bobbed his head on it, a suggestion, a promise, and licked his tongue up the underside, feeling Jensen’s reflexive twitch. When he finally let Jensen’s finger go, looking to repeat with another one, a flush was staining Jensen’s cheeks and he was panting.

Concentrating on how best to fit the next part of Jensen’s hand into his mouth, Jeff wasn’t prepared for when Jensen dropped the remains of the berry and latched on to Jeff’s head, his fingers getting a deathgrip in Jeff’s hair and using it to drag him forward into a desperate kiss. Shocked, Jeff just stood there and felt his toes starting to curl. Jensen’s tongue licked over the seam of Jeff’s lips, just a hint of wetness before he was pressing three little kisses, hard and fast against Jeff’s mouth. Jensen panted. “This is…this is good, right? We’re good?”

Jeff’s brain finally managed to catch up and Jeff groaned, slinging an arm around Jensen’s neck. “We’re goddamned outstanding,” Jeff muttered and took Jensen to the floor. The way that Jeff figured, that whole strawberry thing was more than enough foreplay. He pushed his tongue into Jensen’s mouth and yanked at the fly of Jensen’s pants, his fingers fumbling on the buttons for an embarrassingly long time before Jeff finally managed to get them open. He was starting to hump Jensen’s leg to ease the pressure and feeling like he was all of fifteen but Jensen was acting the same damn way so Jeff thought they were good. He stuck his hand down the front of Jensen’s pants and moaned just as loud as Jensen when he grabbed Jensen’s cock. “Oh, fuck, yeah, that’s good…” Jeff whispered, sliding his fingers up over the head.

Jensen bucked underneath him, hips leaving the floor. When he came back down, both of his hands went to Jeff’s waistband and pulled, opening the fly. Jeff groaned as his aching dick slipped free of the tight, constricting leather, and rubbed Jensen harder. The moment that Jensen wrapped his fingers around Jeff’s cock, a shock rocketed down Jeff’s spine, making his entire body jump, and he knew that this it was going to take ridiculously little to get him off. He tilted his head and mouthed along Jensen’s neck, hoping he was making Jensen just as crazy as Jensen was making him.

One of Jensen’s knees pressed against Jeff’s hip as he curled it upward and a hand fumbled onto Jeff’s thigh, clutching it, the fingers digging into the muscle. Jensen’s hot touch slid all the way down Jeff’s cock to cup his balls and Jeff felt himself starting to shudder. He thrust hard against Jensen’s body, his dick scraping over the rough fabric of Jensen’s shirt, and he came, groaning as he spilled all over Jensen’s stomach.

Jensen squirmed, whining, and Jeff blinked his eyes open. Oh. That was a sight. He caught Jensen’s hand as it tried to divert to Jensen’s own dick and grinned. “Got an idea, Jensen,” he said and lowered himself down so that his mouth could fit nicely around Jensen’s cock, taking in as much as he could handle.

As Jeff sucked, Jensen froze up, a low, keening whine steadily building like an alarm before he was pulling at Jeff’s hair, babbling about how it was, “Too much, too much, too fucking much… Gonna, gonna, gonna…” Then he was gone, his hips bucking upward as his hands slapped against the hull and Jeff was swallowing fast because he’d always liked an easy clean-up.

Jeff was still licking his lips when Jensen collapsed against the floor, looking wrung out. He flopped a hand at Jeff. “Wow…”

“Yeah,” Jeff agreed, pushing himself onto his knees. Hopefully, they wouldn’t make him regret this in the morning. “So, I, uh, wanted to talk to you.” Jensen threw him a look that flatly said he thought Jeff was crazy and, yeah, okay, so maybe they shouldn’t be having this conversation on the floor of the engine room with their dicks hanging out.

“Consider me talked to,” Jensen muttered, his hand still waving indistinctly until he threw it over his head. Blurry and sated was a good look on him, too. 

Jeff sighed and got to his feet. “I’m serious, Jensen.”

Jensen blinked at him and then flushed as he rolled to his feet. He turned his back to Jeff to fix his clothes but to Jeff that seemed a little like trying to close the barn door after everything had already escaped. Once you had your hand around a man’s dick, there really wasn’t much room for shyness anymore.

“Jensen—”

“Are you kicking me off the ship?” Jensen interrupted, still facing the far wall, and Jeff stuttered to a stop.

“What?”

“I know you’ve got rules and all, Captain, but it’s bad form to blow a guy so you can kick him off the ship.”

“Why would I kick you off the ship?” Jeff asked, wondering how the hell they’d even gotten on the topic. It was quite a jump from ‘let’s talk’ to ‘get off my damn ship.’

“I’d rather not get kicked off.” 

“I’m not kicking you off the ship!” Jeff snapped, grabbing a hold of Jensen’s arm. “What the Hell has gotten into you?”

Jensen finally turned to look at Jeff, his teeth biting into his bottom lip before he dropped his eyes. “You’re mad at me.”

“Stop that,” Jeff said because damned if Jensen wasn’t making Jeff think of abused puppies left out in the rain. He waved his hand in a circle to encompass Jensen’s face when Jensen furled his eyebrows in confusion. “That whole…thing you do.” Normally, Jensen only pulled out that particular expression when he really wanted a part that he knew Jeff wouldn’t want to spring for. This was that expression times a few hundred thousand. “It’s not fair when you do that.”

“Captain?”

“Jeff,” Jeff corrected. Jensen frowned. “When we’re alone, you can call me Jeff.”

“Jeff,” Jensen said and Jeff smiled, feeling a small surge of elation that Jensen crashed and burned with his next words. “Are you kicking me off the ship, Jeff? Is it about Kat? I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“I told you, I’m not kicking you off the ship.” Thinking for a moment, Jeff amended his statement with, “Not unless you want me to.” Because, really, he’d come down here to talk about Jensen’s wants and needs and not to have sex in the engine room and have his entire plans for this conversation go completely out the airlock. Not that Jeff was complaining about the sex. His knees might later, but Jeff wasn’t.

“Why would I want you to kick me off the ship?” Jensen asked, like _Jeff_ was the one who wasn’t making any sense.

“I don’t know,” Jeff said. 

Jensen’s eyes narrowed. “So I’m not getting kicked off?”

“No!” Jeff shouted and then winced as his voice echoed through the engine room. Jensen was staring at him and Jeff scrubbed a hand over his face. “I actually came down here to talk you into staying. If you wanted.” Jensen kept staring. “You know, in-in-in case you were thinking about leaving. Exploring.” When Jeff had been Jensen’s age, he couldn’t have been kept in one place with six point restraints and a gun to his head.

“So you had sex with me.”

“Yes. No!” Jeff had no fucking idea what he was saying anymore. “I gave you strawberries.”

“Right.”

“And then you went and turned them into porn and…” Jeff trailed off as he realized that Jensen was starting to stare again. “I was going to see if you wanted to go to my room to have sex,” Jeff confessed because, hey, it wasn’t like he hadn’t put a little bit of effort into this.

“So that I would stay?” Well, when a person put it like that, it sounded kind of sleezy. Jensen pressed a hand against his head. “Jesus, Jeff.”

“Don’t you ‘Jesus’ me,” Jeff said, wanting to defend himself. He wasn’t Ducas or Serge or Kat or any of the other jackals circling around Jensen waiting to strike. “You go wandering off onto some other person’s ship when you know that person would dearly love to tie you down and keep you! What was I supposed to think?” 

“So this is about Kat.” Jensen shot him a look.

“No, it’s not about fucking Katarina!” Jeff growled, banging his fist against the nearest flat surface. The metal pinged, echoing through the room, and Jeff hunched his shoulders at Jensen’s sudden glare. “Sorry.”

“She just wanted me to fix a few things. I thought you liked Kat.”

“That’s not the point!” Jensen was right. Jeff had liked Katarina right up until the third time she’d made a bid for Jensen. It had stopped being funny then. Jensen looked at him skeptically and Jeff shook a finger at him. “You’ve had seven offers to leave this ship in the past six months—some of which would make other guys cry, I might add—and you haven’t said ‘no’ to a single one! To me, that says that you’re keeping your options open.” _That_ was the damn point!

Jensen blinked. “Offers?” he asked, like he was hearing it for the first time. “From _who_?”

“From everybody!” Jeff said and he didn’t think that was an exaggeration. Sometimes it felt like the whole damn universe was trying to snap Jensen up. “Katarina’s tried five times— _five_ —Jerva at least three, the last time Ducas was onboard the ship, he was two seconds away from letting you fuck him and—”

“ _Ducas?_ ”

“—And don’t try to pretend that Serge’s offer didn’t turn your head!”

Jensen frowned in confusion. “That’s your old army buddy, right? The one with the Trine-class?”

“Yes, the one with the Trine-class! Fuck, Jensen, he offered you a person tour of one of the galaxy’s most high-tech engines and then wanted to know if you wanted to follow it up with a private trip to his quarters for an up-close interview with his dick.”

“ _Really_?” Jensen asked and it was more a squeak. His eyes were round and there was a flush starting high on his cheeks like this was the first time he’d heard any of this.

“Yes!” Jeff said. He could keep going on, naming the names that spanned back at least two years now but there was something in Jensen’s expression that made him stop. “You didn’t know?”

Jensen shook his head furiously. “No…” His eyes darted around the room, like he was trying to remember and coming up blank. 

“Jerva?” Jeff asked, jogging Jensen’s memory. “Jensen, he touched your _balls_.” It hadn’t even been an ass-graze. Jerva was brazen enough to go for the gold.

“It’s…It’s a tight fit and the right-side valve on the intake line needed to be changed. He was helping. I thought…”

Oh, he’d been helping alright. Helping himself to a few gropes of Jeff’s crew. Jeff had then proceeded to help Jerva right off the ship.

“Ducas.” He’d been shamelessly sprawled all over like the high-priced prostitute he was because it was no secret that all the high officials of the Mercinian Court were for sale if you had the right price.

“He was interested in the modifications I made to the—”

“He wasn’t interested in any modifications,” Jeff said flatly. “Ducas barely knows how to run that fancy hologram he travels around with.”

Jensen dropped onto an overhang, the metal banging underneath him but Jeff didn’t call him on it. “I…wow. I…really?”

“Yeah. And you never turned any of them down.”

“Because I didn’t know that they were asking,” Jensen said. “I was busy.” And that sounded so incredibly like Jensen—too wrapped up in engine parts to notice the real world—that Jeff had to smile. “And…” Jensen glanced up. “You didn’t have to have sex with me to get me to stay.”

The strawberries were sitting innocently on the floor and Jeff picked them up just to have something to do with his hands. “That’s not the only reason why I did it,” he said, figuring that he might as well go for broke.

“No?”

“No. I might have wanted to do that for awhile.”

“You…haven’t been ‘offering’ too, have you?’ Jensen asked, sounding anxious. “I would have noticed that, right?”

“Well, only a little,” Jeff hedged, thinking of all the times that he’d deliberately moved into Jensen’s personal space for no reason or the little touches he’d allowed himself.

“I thought you didn’t sleep with your crew,” Jensen said, quoting Jeff’s first rule of avoiding relationship complications. “That’s what you always say.” His face hardened and he looked…angry? “Are you telling me that we could have been doing this sooner?”

“I…” Wait. Jensen had been thinking about doing this before?

“Damn it, Jeff!” Jensen pounded the overhang with his fist but then gave it a soothing pat. “Three years I’ve been waiting for you to fuck me and, and, and you come and _rub off on me_ because some people were—”

“Hey, I blew you, don’t forget!” Jeff said, though he knew that really wasn’t the point. He just wanted to stop Jensen from yelling because he’d _never_ seen Jensen mad and he didn’t quite know what to do with it. _Three years?_

“Oh, yes, thanks—”

“You didn’t like it?”

“Did I _look_ like I didn’t like it?” Jensen snarled, glaring, and Jeff realized that once again, he’d missed the point.

“Well, at the time…no.” Jensen stood up and seized Jeff’s wrist, dragging him around and out of the engine room. “Where are we going?”

“To do this right,” Jensen said, pulling Jeff down the hall and Jeff’s dick was A-okay with that plan. 

“So you’re…staying?” It was important that Jeff got that cleared up. “You don’t want to leave?”

“Provided we get to a bed before I throw myself out the airlock in frustration, yeah,” Jensen growled.

“Oh. Right.” And then Jeff was dragging _Jensen_ because that sounded like the best damn plan he’d ever heard.

* * *

Jensen was curled around Jeff like an Urian Marsi, arms wrapped around Jeff’s chest and a leg thrown over Jeff’s hips. It was a hold that made sure that Jeff wasn’t going anywhere for awhile but, unlike with the life-sucking Marsi, Jeff didn’t mind. It wasn’t like he had any plans on moving for the next, oh, ten to twelve hours. Jensen had broken him.

That was nothing new. Every night in the past two weeks since they’d started this, Jensen had seemed to make it his life ambition to wear Jeff out to the point of exhaustion—like he was making up for lost time. Holt had tried to crack a few jokes about Jensen never letting Jeff out of his bunk anymore but Holt didn’t have any room to talk because the entire crew had noticed that there was now a direct correlation between how much time Holt spent in Harbinger’s quarters and his relative energy level the next day. Apparently, shiny blue packages worked wonders.

Jensen licked absently at Jeff’s skin, tracing patterns that might or might not have been Jensen’s name. He latched onto a nipple and Jeff sighed, petting Jensen’s hair, but he moved his hips when Jensen tried to reach for his cock. “It’s dead,” Jeff muttered. “You killed it.” Jensen chuckled and grabbed a hold of him anyway, just to check. Jeff hissed, his toes curling, but stayed put, tolerating the soft teasing touch and eventually, Jensen let him go. It was Hell to be old. 

Jeff looked down over Jensen, taking in the long lines of Jensen’s body and smiled. “Thinking about visiting Mercinia again,” Jeff said. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Kind of wanted to see if we could do this on the beach.”

Jensen smirked against Jeff’s chest. “You just want to make a point.”

Jeff shrugged as nonchalantly as he could against the pillows. “Who says I’m not just an exhibitionist?”

“Oh, you are,” Jensen said, sitting up to meet Jeff’s eyes. “But there’s a reason why it has to be Mercinia and not, say Salenda—which has better beaches.”

“Okay,” Jeff admitted. “So maybe I’m petty.”

Jensen snorted and dropped himself back down. “I’m not letting you fuck me on the beach,” he said, following it up with a softer, muttered, “Sand _everywhere…_.”

“So maybe not the beach,” Jeff said, trying to compromise. “Maybe we can—”

“If Ducas offers, I’ll tell him to fuck off,” Jensen mumbled, sounding sleepy but amused.

“I’ll accept that.” It might not have the shock factor of, say, fucking Jensen on the beach, but it would probably get better results. Ducas, along with the rest of the damn galaxy, was going to quickly learn that Jensen was Jeff’s and Jeff wasn’t letting him go anywhere.


End file.
